Night Of The Living Bread

Woke up late, went for a bite Kitchen lights flicker, something’s not right Toaster hums like a synth from hell Sourdough creeping from the bottom shelf Crumbs on the floor, footsteps of rye Bagel rolls past with a gleam in its eye I grab a knife — but it’s not enough The ciabatta’s got fists, and it’s looking tough It’s the night… of the living bread They rise with yeast, and a thirst for dread Run for your life, or you’ll end up toast Crusts in the wind, and baguettes like ghosts Out on the street, it's a gluten war Croissants crawling under every door Pita patrol with a battle cry Someone just got smacked by a flying rye Breadsticks march like soldiers in rows Muffins mutiny, dinner rolls froze The baker screams — he’s lost control The brioche broke free from the mixing bowl It’s the night… of the living bread They’re warm, they’re soft, but they want you dead Flour in the air, dough in your hair Hide in the fridge if you even dare “They were baked for love… but they chose violence.” “No gluten-free mercy.” “Crumb to crumble… the uprising begins.” It’s the night… of the living bread No jam, no peace, just rising dread Wheat on the wind, fear in your breath The bakery’s open — and it's serving death Toast… is watching. Don’t butter it. Run.